Pickles
by candy4yourEYEZ
Summary: Prussia gets drunk and decides that a vegetable is not at all what it seems... Fluff, Prussian Logic, hints of PruCan, rated T for Prussia's mouth


**I've decided to start a habit of picking one of my favorite (random) quotes and writing a one-shot about it. So, here goes, I own nothing, read/rate/****review**** you know the deal, kthxbai!**

"**Pickles are cucumbers soaked in evil"**

The front door opened, and a series of thumps announced his entrance. Ludwig got out of his comfortable chair and walked downstairs, bracing himself for the catastrophe that was a drunk Gilbert.

"After all these years, shouldn't his alcohol tolerance be ridiculously high by now?" Ludwig mumbled, waiting for the first lamp to be knocked over. _Crash!_ And there it went. "He probably has beer for blood, I wouldn't be surprised if he's constantly buzzed."

"_Kesese, kesesese_…" A door opened and shut, and Ludwig decided to get it over with. He was the embodiment of the country of Germany, he could handle his older brother! "Where are they…"

"_Bruder_, what are you looking for."

"_Kesese_, wouldn't you like to know!" Ludwig noted dryly that though Gilbert's motor functions and reasoning might be slightly impaired, his speech was fine.

"Go upstairs and sleep it off, _Bruder_."

"NO! I HAVE TO PROTECT THIS HOUSE FROM EVIL!" Well… That was a new prerogative. Normally Gilbert just wanted to drink more after he was drunk, not protect from evil… That sounded like something America would do. How drunk was Gilbert?

"_Was_?"

"I told you! Now, where are the pickles in this damn refrigerator…"

Ludwig was almost afraid to ask. "Why do you want to find the pickles?"

"BECAUSE THEY'RE EVIL!" He really had no idea how Canada put up with this twisted 'Prussian Logic.' That boy was a saint- when he could remember him.

"…" There were no words for this.

"I'M WARNING YOU! EVERYONE THINKS THEY'RE JUST CUTE LITTLE VEGETABLE THINGS, BUT THEY AREN'T! IT'S A FAÇADE!" How the hell did he manage to talk better when drunk then when sober?

"Excuse me?"

"DON'T LET THEM FOOL YOU!" At this, Gilbert whirled around from his hunting in the fridge, grabbed Ludwig by the shoulders, and shook him, staring intently into his eyes. His voice lowered until it seemed like he was about to tell a secret of the utmost importance. "_Pickles… are cucumbers soaked in evil_."

Once again, Ludwig was astonished by the way his _bruder_'s mind worked. "Get upstairs and sleep it off."

"They'll come after you, now that you know, oh yes they will. They'll try to get me too, because I'm in on their little conspiracy. BUT IT WON'T LAST! I'LL EAT THE LITTLE SHITS BEFORE THEY CAN DEFEAT THE AWESOME PRUSSIA, CONQUEROR OF VITAL REGIONS! SAY HELLO TO MY AWESOME STOMACH, TURD VEGGIES!" And at that, Gilbert snatched the jar of pickles from the open refrigerator and kicked the door shut, grinning like a maniac. "Better protect your little boy toy from these, _bruder_."

"But if you eat them all, then won't they be able to attack you from the inside? You're letting your enemy into your own home base!" Ludwig knew from prior experience that the only way to get through to Gilbert was through military logic. Besides, he really didn't want to have to clean up a mess of beer and pickles when Gilbert threw up later. "And Feliciano is not my… 'boy toy.'" And cue the blush.

"Good point… _Kesese_… Those little bastards aren't getting anywhere near my digestive system!" At this point, Ludwig shepherded a muttering Gilbert up to his room.

_The Next Morning_

"Ve~ Gilbert?" Feliciano cautiously opened Gilbert's door to inform him about breakfast, hoping he wouldn't end up being jumped by a still-drunk albino… again.

"Nope, they aren't getting the jump on me, _kesese_…"

"W-what…?" Feliciano swallowed nervously, slowly shut the door, and immediately ran downstairs to jump in Ludwig's lap. "DOITSU DOITSU DOIIIIIIITSUUUUUUUUU!"

"What is it, Feliciano?" Ludwig sighed, guessing that they had run out of pasta or something equally as catastrophic to the Italian.

"I-it's Gilbert…" Shit. "I—I went to tell him that breakfast was ready," Feli blubbered, "and I-I opened his door a-and-" at this he broke down sobbing, clutching Ludwig like he was one of his plushies.

"And what, Feliciano?" Ludwig knew that the best way to deal with a hyperventilating Feli was to stay calm, but he couldn't help but be a little worried as to what caused this breakdown.

"It was horrible! There were pickles everywhere, on the ceiling and on the floor and the wall and there were knives stabbed through them pinning them up, there were bits of chopped up pickle scattered on the floor and the whole room smelled like pickle juice and…" And Feliciano was reduced to a crying mess.

And as Ludwig wondered what on earth he had done to deserve a brother like Gilbert, a faint "_Kesese_, _they won't get me now_" could be heard from upstairs.


End file.
